Blackwater
by Delgodess
Summary: Blackgate seemed so simple now. Sure, they had their nasties, but they had NOTHING on these freaks.
1. Greener on the Other Side

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything from or relating to _Batman: Arkham Asylum_. **

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The inmate grunted, yet again bashing his shaved head against the top of the crawl space. His orange clothing scraped on the passage way's gritty surface, the dust and filth creating a thick coating of black on the horrid color.

The ground shook and he flinched upward, the back of his head hitting the ceiling with a hard smack and this time, he really did curse. Bits of rock and dust hailed down on him and he curled into a ball, bringing his face to his knees and covering his pounding head with torn and bloody hands.

The shaking stopped just as abruptly as it had started, but still the prisoner waited, harsh, panting breaths his only company in the silence. Slowly, he straitened his body, checking for injuries before moving on. His shuffling resumed its frantic pace and the inmate once again questioned his own sanity.

When he had found the cement ventilation tunnel, its bolted bars removed and shoved to one side, he had almost cried with relief. It had seemed at the time to be a gift from God, its narrow opening perfect for a thin person such as himself (or a crouching man) to fit into. It was one of the benefits of being smaller than the other inmates, he supposed, and promptly left his abusive and somewhat slow minded brethren behind. They had wanted to side with the Joker anyway, and there was no way he was having any part of _that_.

The Joker was insane (weren't they all, in this place?), but what really unnerved the young prisoner was his careless disregard for life. He knew, in the grand scheme of things, that he was a nobody. And nobodies were expendable. So, naturally, he'd gotten out of there at the first opportunity.

But now, he wasn't so sure he should have left. At least, not through the tunnel.

He had been traveling for awhile before, out of nowhere, the ground started moving. After the initial shock had worn off, he had hastened to the nearest exit, trying to find a way out. But, to his increasing frustration and panic, each and every route was blocked off; by bars, rubble, and disturbingly, giant roots.

What the _hell_ was going on out there?

He didn't want to think about it and chose instead to put all of his efforts into moving. He'd turned down a side passage awhile ago and with each passing minute had the sinking suspicion that the tunnel was slowly sloping downward. The cement around him had long since turned to jagged stone, ripping his clothes and cutting his knuckles. The place increasingly smelt of dust, decay and strangely, moisture.

The inmate rounded a corner, rearing back and inhaling sharply when he came face to face with a brick wall. It must have been boarded off sometime in the past. He let his head sag to his knees and took a deep breath of musty air.

He knew this had been a bad idea.

The small man rested for a moment, stilling his pounding heart and contemplating his options. He relaxed even farther, closing his tired eyes and leaning up against the rough wall. Wincing, he pulled his sensitive scalp away so it wouldn't brush the top of the enclosed space. Rubbing his face and the sore muscles of his neck, the inmate decided that he would have to backtrack, moving a few moments later to do so.

A sighing breath escaped his lips as he looked back the way he had come, pulling his legs under himself in an awkward crouch and stepping forward. The rock heaved beneath him, and for an instant, he thought he had somehow happened upon a weak spot on the old floor.

He threw himself backwards, his shoulders smacking against the red bricks behind him in an effort to clear the area. A snapping sound echoed by his right ear and he swung his head around towards it. Starting away, the dirty figure noticed, with increasing dread, large, green tentacles, seeming to appear out of every surface.

Wide eyed, he shot forward, trying to get away from what he now knew were Poison Ivy's freakish plants. They reached for him, wrapping around a leg and the prisoner screamed, shoving hard away from the wiry appendages.

The tunnel groaned and he watched in panic as a large spider web crack formed beneath him. He flailed, desperate hands reaching to grab hold of stable rock, only to meet nothing.

He fell through the growing hole, his body crashing through moving vines and landing with a sickening crunch on an uneven surface.

The inmate was just able to make out the distinct smell of sewer water before darkness took him.

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**AN: So? What's the word?  
**

**Review Please!**

**~Delgodess**


	2. Maybe TOO Green

His hand was wet.

That was his first thought.

His second was that he hated water.

Then all his nerve endings decided to scream at him for being so stupid. The rubble groaned and shifted, stilling suddenly when the ground seemed to bob. Something was dripping in the distance, the sound too loud for his pounding skull and its echoing only made it worse.

'I must be beneath the asylum.' He ventured, 'A cave perhaps?' No… it didn't smell right.

The rubble moved, slowly this time; rock chunks, pale dust and splintered wood falling off a spinney body. A nearly hairless head turned slowly, nausea and dizziness threatening unconsciousness again.

Slow-moving water drifting by where he lay, pipes running along thick cement walls and what looked to be floating raffs lining the center of the canal. He was sitting on one of them, the weight of his body and the rubble making it sag to one side. His hand was dipping into the liquid, creating ripples in the smooth water. He pulled it out, absently wiping it off on his chest as he continued to scan the area. The inmate cautiously tilted his head up, painted face streaked with dust and sweat.

Looking for the hole he vaguely remembered falling through, he was unsurprised to find an enormous green root in its place. Of course there would be mutant plants growing here. Why not? It was the loony bin after all.

He shifted, grabbing a hold of a rotting plank when his craft threatened to tip over. He was grateful that it hadn't splintered when he fell, the old wood slick with moisture and crumbling with age. The prisoner cautiously rose, grumbling to himself.

"Well, Nick," he murmured, "You've sure got yourself into something this time."

A sure sign of madness was talking to one's self; the crazy _had _to be catching. He needed to get out of here before he started seeing things too. Nick shook his head wearily, happy when the action didn't immediately evict pain.

Slowly inching his way to the far side of the plank and hesitantly stepping onto the next one, the young man froze as a hissing growl reverberated through the tunnel, the sound causing large ripples in the water. There was a pained shout followed by a beastly roar and then silence…for a moment. A loud crunch echoed in Nicks ears and he felt his heart skip a beat.

He swallowed, straining his hearing for another ominous sound. He felt sweat beading on his forehead, his throat suddenly dry. Another sickening snap rang out and he bolted forward a few steps, fear making his movements clumsy and his bare feet slid along the slippery wood.

He bit his lip hard, fighting to control his raging emotions and swiveling his body in every direction.

There had been stories.

The other inmates would talk in whispers about something living in the sewers. But the smarter ones would shut them up before they could get around to what was actually _there_.

Nick's jaw clenched and his brow furrowed in frustrated anger.

_God_, he was so out of the loop. He didn't know _anything_ about this place. Blackgate seemed so simple now. Sure, they had their nasties, but they had _nothing _on these freaks.

He started forward when no more sounds were forthcoming, cautiously keeping to the center of the wooden planks. The tunnel was long, twisting; there were so many turns he wasn't sure if it was a good idea to keep moving, especially with that _thing_ still out there. But the thought of staying in one place did nothing for his imagination, so pushing away horrified visions of bloody walls, mouths frozen in screams and empty eyes, Nick quickened his pace, fumbling as he did so.

The only way out was _up_ and even if he had to scale a freaking _wall_, he would find a way out. But no more air vents, at least for a while yet. He shuddered, remembering how the space had seemed to close in around him, the darkness suffocating and so much different from the humid air of the channel. It was dank, yes, but there was space here, even if the water was disgusting. His sharp eyes flickered over the walls he past, lingering on the dark entrances of the tunnels offshoots.

He shuffled along in a half crouch, his body subconsciously falling into the position as he tried to keep his balance and shield his vital areas.

It was quiet, too quiet; only the sound of his own movements, the shifting of fabric and soft _plink_ of his bare feet in puddles, reached his ears. The lap of water was constant and despite the liquid around him, Nick felt his mouth going dry.

He stopped suddenly; dread filling him enough to choke.

The gut feeling whispered urgently, telling him to move, to hide, and he followed it without hesitation, refusing to ignore the warning as he had before, in Blackgate.

Nick darted to one side, quickly pulling himself into a niche half way up the slime coated wall. It was tight and uncomfortably like a ventilation shaft, but it was also deep; deep enough that nothing short of a long pole could reach him. He settled out of sight, stilling his breath not a moment before something burst from the water, sending up a spray of filth and wood shards from the place he had once been standing. A roar, like granite rock grinding together, deep and powerful, sent the hairs on his arms up like static.

The sound actually shook the surface he was flat against, it was so loud. Nick covered his head for the umpteenth time that night, pressing his smudged face into the ground to shield his eyes from falling rock fragments and dust. God he was so sick of walls falling down around him.

The smell of blood and sewage hit him at the same instant a vicious hiss filled the silent air. Nick flinched, the chilling sound freezing his trembling body. Holding his breath, he chanced a terrified look past the rubble he'd crawled through.

The entrance was blocked by something huge, its shadow making it impossible for him to see properly. Its surface rippled as it moved away and the inmate squinted into the gloom created by the red sewer lights. A patch-work of crisscrossing lines greeted him, but it was too exact, too uniform, and it took Nick a confused moment to realize what it was.

Scales.

He was seeing the shifting scales of a gigantic snake. The prisoner bit his lower lip as he watched it breathe, fascinated by the flutter of movement as its chest rose for another ragged, hissing breath. The creature turned, revealing another side and Nick nearly gagged on his own tongue.

The area in view was spiked, hard-edged and rough; nothing like the back of a snake. Then he realized something that should have been obvious: its movements were all wrong.

Almost like…

Nick pulled back fractionally, eyes wild as the thing whipped towards his hiding place. Could it be? It was almost like a crocod-

"**Where are you, rat? I know you're here!**"

Its voice startled him enough to make him jump and he cursed himself in panic. He was lucky he hadn't been touching anything loose, but the movement alone could have been enough to betray his presence. Nick slinked closer to the floor, trying to become one with the cement debris.

A deep growl echoed from the tunnel as he tried not to breathe, syllables like sandpaper rasping from what Nick now knew was Killer Croc's bloody, fanged mouth.

"**I will find you, little rat. And I will rip the flesh from your bones!**"

He could hear the monster sniffing and growling outside his hiding place and it wasn't long before it moved off, great breaths seething in frustration. He waited until the killer had moved out of sight before relaxing his tense muscles and letting out a relieved sigh.

There was a roar and suddenly he was pushing himself up against the back of the tunnel, a grotesque clawed hand swiping at him as he scrambled to get out of reach. It was so close it brushed against the zipper of his jump suit, tearing the orange fabric where it touched. He pressed harder against the stone behind him, wincing as a sharp rock dug into his spine.

"**RAT!**" The croc snarled, ripping at the opening of the niche with his other hand.

Nick looked about franticly, eyes alighting on the jagged end of a broken pipe. In desperation, he grabbed it, pulling it from the wall with adrenalin filled limbs and thrusting it into the monster's grasping hand with a grunt.

It roared, louder than it had before, retracting its hand as Nicks head rung with the sound. There was a fleshy _shink_ as the metal was pulled out, followed by a terror inducing growl as the creature began clawing in fury at the opening.

Nick felt a warm trickle run down to the seat of his pants, but shame was far away for the hyperventilating inmate. His frantic eyes traced the inside of his hideout for an alternate exit but before he could find one, if there had been one at all, a black shadow whirled by, slamming against his assailant with crippling force.

Killer Croc fell out of sight with another rattling roar and he thought he caught a glimpse of midnight wings before they too, moved from sight.

Nick heard what must have been fighting, but the only thing he seemed to be able to focus on was the beating of his own heart.

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**AN: What did you think? Anything I can do better?  
**

**Review Please!**

**~Delgodess**


	3. Did you Hear That?

When he dared to peek outside the hole, Nick was dismayed to find that the raft directly in front of his exit was missing. In fact, it looked as if it had been torn to pieces.

He shuddered, pulling back and rolling into a ball until he could figure a way out. The terrified inmate knew he couldn't stay there. The monster already knew where he was. It would be in his best interests if he found somewhere else to hide, preferably away from this death trap of a sewer.

But the only way out was if he slipped into the water and swam to another raft; though that plan had its obvious draw backs. Specifically, alerting Killer Croc to his presence, followed closely by his eminent death.

So he was left with three options: Go into the water and get torn to shreds, stay where he was and get torn to shreds or, his personal favorite, stay where he was and starve to death. Yes, his options were looking fabulous. He could always just try to dig his way out, but somehow he didn't think that would work.

Nick snickered under his breath, the sound more than a little hysterical to his ears. He needed to get a grip.

The dirty man stilled, dark eyes fixed on the slimy sewer wall opposite him.

_Get a grip. _

His gaze sharpened, taking in the large, industrial copper pipe that ran the length of the wall. He scrambled forward, straining to see the surfaces outside his sanctuary without actually sticking his vulnerable head into the open air. If he tilted his neck _just so_ he could…there! The brick walls closest to him _did_ have copper pipes! They were rusty and old from what he could see, but at this point he wasn't at all worried about possibly needing a tetanus shot. He could get freaking out!

He scooted forward, listening with unwavering intensity. Every one of his senses was hyperaware, like a livewire. The slick sludge moving along the edge of the cement tunnel was disgustingly clear, in all its brown and green glory, the _sploosh_ of drifting plywood seemed unnaturally loud and the smell of his own fear, sharp and foul, wafted from the back of his hiding place to his waiting nose.

Or maybe that was just him.

Nick grimaced, trying hard not to smell himself. He needed to clean himself up; the stench alone was a giveaway.

He waited, straining to hear the rugged sound of conflict, distantly recalling the black shape he had seen. Tentatively, he reached out, shifting so that he could inch feet first from the hole. His cut hands ran along the grooves of the wall's dirty surface, catching on a small ledge. As quietly and quickly as he could, Nick swung himself down and out, bare feet alighting on the cool, wet metal of the pipe. It groaned at the added weight, straining slightly, but held.

Slinking along the edge of the slippery platform proved difficult and time consuming. Every moment pinned out in the open seemed to last a lifetime, and it wasn't long before Nick founding himself sweating like a pig. His palms became slippery and he found himself losing his grip, no matter how many times he attempted to wipe his hands down the side of his pant leg.

He paused, taking a deep, panting breath, before slowly, _gently_, lifting his left foot.

He was falling before it had even registered that the pipe had broken from the wall, the shift in weight too much for the old, straining bolts. He had a split second to wince and prepare for the inevitable splash, but was taken aback when instead of water, he hit wood, landing with a breathless _oof_.

Nick laid there for a moment, listlessly staring at the ceiling as he gathered his bearings. Then he rose, padding down the tunnel with cautious purpose.

He wandered aimlessly, shying away from the twisted iron gates he came across and staring with disturbed fascination at the strange glowing plants he found. They seemed to move on their own and Nick shivered, seeing the signs of Poison Ivy at work.

He would crouch into a huddled ball whenever there was a roar, the sound of a hurried fight amplified by the enclosed stone tunnels. He'd long since realized who his shadowed savior had been and was more than happy to let the two titans duke it out; All the better for him if they were distracted.

At one point, the water rippled out in a wave, a distant explosion rocking more dust from the ceiling. He'd frozen in place, listening anxiously, and only moved when no more sound was forthcoming.

The sewer sank once more into silence and the inmate couldn't help but feel apprehension grow. The stillness was beginning to unnerved him and Nick hurried forward, at last glimpsing a cement walkway leading to an iron door.

He quickened is pace, nearly sprinting at the sight as he felt a burst of relief and adrenaline. His feet flapped against the dirty floor, wind rushing by him. He could almost taste the clean air beyond the door, it was so close.

He was so caught up in his desperate flight to freedom that he failed to see the giant hole before it was too late. His eyes widened and he jerked his body back, uncovered feet skidding along the slick floor.

Nick's body flailed and he yelped as his bottom half flew over the edge, the fabric of his orange jumpsuit catching slightly on a protruding steel beam. He reached out for the rough edge of the opening, barely catching himself. A pained hiss left him and he swallowed, muscles straining.

In the deep space below him, he heard an answering hiss, dark and malicious.

Then the cement he clung to crumbled.

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**AN: Review Please!  
**

**~Delgodess**


	4. Yep And it's UGLY

Nick hit the ground with a hard smack, stagnant water flying up around him. Stars sparked behind his eyes and air whooshed from his lungs, his back stinging. The black had yet to fade from his vision, but he turned towards the sudden presence looming over him anyway, instinctively forcing his aching body to move.

He didn't get far.

"**You!**" The Croc man snarled, grabbing the inmate by the ankle and dragging him closer.

"**Damn flightless rodent!"**

The small man screamed, closing his eyes and pulling back as far as possible. He felt warm air on his neck, smelt the vile breath and heard…sniffing?

He peeked one green eye open. The beast's head was tucked close to the junction of his neck and shoulder, huffing and snorting in his ear. It scented the air, long tongue hanging over its sharp teeth, the appendage widening and flexing as if it were alive. It slipped back in, flicking saliva in Nick's face.

The inmate grimaced, watching helplessly as a deep rumble shook the behemoths chest, the vibrations moving up and out in a growling chuckle. It shook his entire body and echoed in the silent sewer, causing the hair on the captive's arms to stand on end.

Then, Nick could only watch wide eyed as the monster threw back its head and laughed.

Still chuckling hoarsely, the giant pulled the immobilized prisoner closer, wide hands carrying the weight with ease. He smiled, if that was possible, and brought a clawed hand to hold up Nick's chin.

"**This **_**is**_** a surprise.**" He hissed, turning Nick's head one way, then the other, before running a claw along the cheek of his frightened captive, drawing blood.

The scaly animal drew him closer, inhaling greedily and letting the air out with a ragged purr.

"**It's been sooo **_**long **_**since I've tasted female flesh.**"

The slight figure in the dirty jumpsuit paled, green eyes widening even more and stubborn mouth dropping open in shock.

"W-wha-" Nick stuttered.

Killer Croc snorted, running his long slimy tongue up the side of his victims' bloody face. Nick couldn't help but flinch, jerking away from the appendage and swallowing a whimper at the pain. The towering creature pulled back with a satisfied growl and took another deep breath, eyes closing in obvious relish. They opened with a new glint in their yellow depths and Killer Croc _grinned_, ugly features twisting with mocking pleasure.

"**I can **_**smell**_** it, bitch.**"

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**AN: *Smirks*  
**

**Review Please!**

**~Delgodess**


	5. He Who Hits and Runs Away

Nicks' body froze as a new fear enveloped her, a fear she hadn't had the unfortunate pleasure of feeling for a long time. She sat in the palms of a giant croc man, too stunned to scream as he lifted her higher so that her neck was level with his mouth. He snuffed it, maw extending and razored teeth brushing lightly against her hypersensitive skin.

Shock gripped her strongly, its paralyzing fingers digging into her brain.

Her focus had narrowed at his last words, the syllables sending her fake persona as Nick the Thug crashing down around her ears.

She couldn't breathe. She was panicking and some distant part of her knew it.

And she hated herself for the weakness.

Because, damn it, she was _Nick_ the Inmate, _Nick_ the Killer and it had been too long since she had been _Natalie_ the Petty Thief, _Natalie_ the Street-Rat, who had been hungry enough to steal from a downtown corner-market, not realizing that the store was a front and that it was in reality a weapons hub owned by the Falconies.

Then, of course, she had realized _too late_ that she had been pinned for the murder of someone she had never even _heard of_, all because _somebody _needed to take the fall.

It had been _too long_ since she had been anywhere other than Gotham's most notorious prison, since she had been anyone _other_ than _Nick,_ that she didn't know how to react to the accusation that she was _not_, in fact, what she claimed to be.

She had known, from the beginning, that this was a possibility; that she would be found out.

But she hadn't thought it would be in this horrible place, with one of these… these… _freaks_.

She had hid herself, becoming the murder she had been framed to be, so that she would be _left alone. _

And for what?

So she could die in some sewer beneath an insane asylum?

Nick raged at the thought, icy whispers of fear abating for the moment, giving her control of her mind and of her limbs.

So the inmate, who was _not_ Natalie, did what she had been doing for three years to survive: she fought back.

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**AN: Humm, yes. Any comments?  
**

**Please Review!**

**~Delgodess**


	6. Gets to Fight Another Day

She kicked out with her left foot, flailing back with all the force she could muster. Her right leg followed its partner, lashing out with surprising strength. Her dirty limbs pounded against her captor, making him grunt, but otherwise being ineffective.

His grinned widened, if that were at all possible, and his hissing laugh rang out again, swallowing the silence. His grip shifted around her, claws tightening on her suspended form.

She could feel something wet seeping into the fabric of her clothes, her darting eyes snapping downwards and alighting on the grotesque form of his right hand. It was bleeding, deep red blood dripping though long bandages wrapped around the length of his forearm. A broken pipe flashed through her mind, a quiet _squelch_ echoing in her memory. Her unoccupied hands caught on his as she panted, legs still battering against his unmoving chest. She could feel a rumbling vibration traveling from him where they touched and, with indignant fury, she realized that he was _still _laughing.

Their gazes met in that moment and she smiled spitefully, barring her teeth as her torn nails dug into his wounded hand. Then she wrenched it back.

His laughter stopped abruptly, eyes narrowing to slits, a fierce snarl ripping from his mouth. Pulling her closer with a jerk was enough to dislodge her grip and she shuttered, fearful regret chasing away what brash courage she had managed to scrounge up. But it was too late; the damage had already been done.

"**Bitch.**" He hissed into her tearstained face. The sick pleasure that had brightened his eyes moments before was long gone, replaced by something far more dark.

His hands pulled roughly from beneath her, sliding quickly up her hips to her torso. Claws dug into her back as she dangled in his grasp, his thumbs pressing harshly into her sternum.

The movement had been so fast that she paused in her assault, clutching wildly at his wrists with a startled yelp.

Then his palms started exerting pressure.

She gasped as her ribs creaked, the crushing force expelling the air from her lungs. Pain raced up her spine, the faint prick of his claws gouging her flesh _nothing_ compared to the screaming protests of her organs. Black dots danced in her vision and she lashed out, panic making her frantic movements clumsy.

His yellowed eyes watched her dispassionately, her legs swinging at his chest and small fingers scratching at his scaled arms with the desperation of the dying.

Until one of her feet caught on the gleaming hunk of metal hanging around his neck.

Electricity sparked, his arms flinging upwards as he convulsed and he released her with a garbled snarl. The force of his throw propelled her into the air and she landed against a crumbing wall with loud _thud_, rolling down quickly and nearly sliding off the edge of a broken over hang. Her body slumped in exhaustion, bald head lulling to the side.

She could just barely make out the large form of Killer Croc below, twitching and rolling about in the center of a deep puddle. The displaced liquid splattered against the sides of this wretched hole, the behemoths spasms rocking the water. Aside from the occasional deep grunt of pain, the Croc was silent and distantly, Nick could make out the distinct sound of teeth grinding.

Then her battered mind began to clear and she discovered something very important. She was, miraculously, out of reach. Killer Croc had become still, billowing breaths deep and reptilian eyes closed in unconsciousness. Or so Nick thought.

"**I've got your scent.**"

She flinched back at his rasped words, heart pumping faster in her chest despite her inability to move. Her mouth on the other hand, had no problem flapping.

"Oh, of course you do." She snarked breathlessly, ragged voice traveling harshly up the length of the broken sinkhole.

"I'm covered in blood, drenched in my own piss and I've been wallowing in god knows what else. I'd be surprised if you didn't smell me."

She was panting by the end of her sentence, her bruised ribs crying out and fresh wounds screaming at her to be still. Grudgingly, she complied, focusing on breathing shallowly instead of patronizing the creature below her.

But then, he just _had_ to talk.

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**AN: So? Any questions, comments or concerns? Do you think I am getting Croc's character right?**

**Review Please!**

**~Delgodess**


	7. A Nice Talk

"**I'm gonna kill you.**"

Her snort hurt on the way up and was loud when it left her nose.

"I know." Nick retorted carelessly, absently flexing the fingers of her limp right hand, the appendage hanging partially over the curve of the ruined cement platform she was sitting on.

"**I'll tear the skin from your flesh and rip the meat from your bones.**"

She sighed. "I know."

There was slow movement in the gloom beneath her, the faint swish of water as the creature adjusted his body.

"**I'll crush you, break your legs and-**"

"_I know_. We've already established that I will die, and _very_ painfully at that."

She didn't know where she got off speaking to him like this, because, honestly? He terrified her. If anyone was able to give you a bad case of the heebie-jeebies, it was him. But her mouth kept on moving, sarcasm dripping from each syllable. It _must _have been the blood loss talking. That or the crazy of this place was finally getting to her.

Nick rolled her eyes at the direction her thoughts were taking, vaguely registering the monster's obnoxious breathing. Damn he was loud. Couldn't he be any quieter? The sound was ringing in her ears, causing the formally dull ache at her temple to turn into stabbing pain behind her eyeballs.

Groaning, the inmate closed her eyes, unbelievably grateful that the throbbing lessened at the relative darkness.

She only had a moment of relief though, because seconds later there was a large splash and a sudden bellow. She snapped her hanging limb up to her chest, bright eyes flying open as adrenaline once again filled her. Sitting up, her body automatically cringed into the jagged wall at her back.

There was a hellish sound, like nails swiping quickly down a chalk board and Nick winced, feeling the vibrations of the Croc's talons scraping the underside of her resting place. Apparently he had decided to try to reach her, even going so far as to take a running leap.

He released a snarling grunt when he landed, hissing to himself as he backed away to repeat the process. She watched with wide eyes, frozen in place and clutching at herself frantically. With no hand holds in sight and nowhere to scramble up to, Nick was pinned in place, breaths coming out in uneven pants.

The monster took one step, massive torso rippling with the movement, then another, his piercing eyes locked on the edge protruding from the wall and the prisoner stuck on it. But when he moved to take the last, the one that would propel him up though the air, he seemed to seize. The killer crumpled with a pained moan, his heavy body toppling face first into the liquid surrounding him.

Then silence fell.

It was some time before Nick gained the capacity to move, let alone think, and quite a bit more before she dared to.

Sweat beaded at her temple as she inched forward, anticipation stilling the breath in her lungs. Her anxious frown turned down even farther when she was finally able to peer at him. He lay sagged in the muddy rubble, half in and half out of the miniature lake covering the bottom of the trench.

Nick stared at him for a moment, keen gaze burning a hole in the man's ridged, scaly back. He seemed fixed in place, no sudden sound, no unforeseen action. Was he breathing? Could he be… dead?

"Hey," She ventured uncertainly, clearing her throat, "How you doing down there?"

Then it was his turn to snort.

"**Peachy.**"

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**AN: Review Please!**

**~Delgodess**


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